


Sleep Deprived

by DreamingMoonlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker is not a reliable narrator, Established Relationship, Fuck the Noise out of Anakin Skywalker's Head, M/M, Mild D/s, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23688436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingMoonlight/pseuds/DreamingMoonlight
Summary: Anakin can't sleep.  Again.  He doesn't handle it very well, but fortunately Obi-Wan is there to help set him to rights.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 18
Kudos: 302





	Sleep Deprived

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again, it's been awhile! Me, working through quarantine anxiety and depression with porn? It's exactly as likely as you'd think. Thanks to Cas and Bell for hand-holding, as always!

Anakin couldn't sleep. Again. This was the third night in a row--in a series of more bad nights than good ones over the last several months--where the drift of his thoughts wasn't so much a slow tide coming and going, like it was supposed to be, like if he were a proper Jedi, if he were the student Obi-Wan had trained him to be, but instead a roiling thunderstorm that seethed under his skin no matter how hard he tried to let them go. And of course he tried, he was here in the training arena in the middle of the night because he was _trying_ to let go of these feelings, _trying_ to find a way to bleed them out before they festered.

No one ever seemed to tell him what to do when that wasn't enough, only ever more meditation or more exercise or more facing them and training himself.

As if that wasn't what he was doing already, like he didn't _face and acknowledge_ Dooku's memory in his dreams every night.

The hologram he'd programmed swept Dooku's lightsaber across his left side, not quite as elegant as the Count's Form II, even when Anakin had cranked the speed up another fifteen percent. It was nearly perfect, it even had that certain viciousness that Dooku radiated, that burning cold that seared Anakin's insides every time he faced off against the man who had torn the galaxy apart. Even now, with just a blue hologram across from him, Anakin could feel the cold seeping into his bones from Dooku's sneering hate.

He leaped high over the Count, his own lightsaber a much more brilliant light, so bright that it was almost hard to look at when turned up to full power this way, the Force guiding Anakin's body and hand, crashing his saber down against duller blue pixels. The spark and screech of light meeting light only made Anakin's blood pound harder, as he twisted away from Dooku's slide down the length of his saber. He fell back, feet skidding against the floor when he made contact with the ground again, until he could reverse the momentum, flying back towards Dooku with a direct assault. He didn't care that this wouldn't work on the real Dooku, it didn't matter if the hologram won again, all Anakin wanted was to wipe that damn smirk off his face, the one that had betrayed the Jedi, had destroyed the security of the Republic, had dragged peace and stability into chaos for whatever sick game he was playing, because he was _evil_ , rotten to the core, and Anakin would--

"The entire Temple can feel you from here, Anakin," Obi-Wan said from the balcony above. High and distant Obi-Wan, looking down on him from afar, so easy to maintain his calm when not down here in the fury and rage, like Anakin was. He barely spared a glance for his former Master, little more than a flicker at the corner of his eye, before launching himself in another long leap over Dooku's head, trying to come up around behind him.

It worked no better than before, but now Obi-Wan was here to witness him crashing against an empty hologram like he had when he was a child, playing at the idea that he could defeat an already dead Sith Lord, too. Of course, now Maul _was_ alive again and Anakin couldn't even reach him, couldn't find him, the one who'd killed Qui-Gon, who had killed the Duchess of Mandalore, just because Obi-Wan had loved her, and how was anyone supposed to just work through that?

Some things couldn't be let go, they crossed a line.

Obi-Wan's footsteps were quiet as he came down the stairs, down where Anakin was still hacking away at the projection of the one Sith Lord that he knew he could beat if Dooku wasn't such a damned coward, if he hadn't taken advantage of an over-eager young Padawan to cut his arm off, to hurt Obi-Wan, to throw all his training in Master Yoda's face. If he would just stop running for one minute, Anakin knew he could defeat him, could cut him to pieces like he _deserved_ \--

"This doesn't seem to be helping," Obi-Wan said in that way that was flat and without judgement if you didn't know him. But Anakin did know him and it wasn't hard to hear the condemnation within. _Why aren't you better at handling your emotions yet? Why can't you just let them go? Why do you keep doing this?_

Perfect Obi-Wan wouldn't and couldn't understand.

Always perfect and Anakin couldn't even hate him for it, because Obi-Wan always shared his perfection with everyone, he refused to even admit that he was good at anything. How could Anakin ever hate him, no matter how much it made him seethe that Obi-Wan couldn't see that he was trying, couldn't see how much Anakin worked to honor his teachings, how much Anakin _cared_ about--

"I'm not really in the mood, Master," he said, cutting his own thoughts off. He struck at a weak spot in Dooku's defense, the sizzle of the lightsaber against the hologram satisfying--that it was Dooku's blocking was much less satisfying. Anakin swung up and over his head, two handed in a powerful battering ram that should have knocked anyone over, even Master Windu or Savage Oppress. But the hologram just kept the same static smirk and same cold wave of dark wave of anger and suffering that stole Anakin's thoughts away from him.

"I would be more inclined to let it pass if you weren't projecting onto anyone who happens to pass by." Obi-Wan paused and Anakin could feel the warm curl of affection and concern, barely there under all the _why are you like this why are you like this why are you like this_. "You're leaking anger and fear everywhere."

Anakin had to pause, his lightsaber held against Dooku's side, about to be parried again, but it paused with him when he didn't follow through on the next hit. "It's not me, it's from Dooku. I know you don't like it when I battle him, but I'm _going_ to be ready for him next time. My powers are nearly doubled from the last time and--"

The hologram clicked off suddenly, gone in a blip of light, and Obi-Wan's hand lowered from where he'd turned it off with the Force. His expression was serious and Anakin had to shove down a sigh at the look of it. Great, another lecture. Maybe _that_ would put him to sleep. Certainly, his eyes felt gritty enough and his head ached from the lack of it that he'd take anything right now. He let his lightsaber fizzle out, feeling like a piece of him went with it.

"Holograms don't have the Force, they're not light or dark. Those are your own feelings," Obi-Wan said. He approached Anakin like he would a rancor about to stampede, as if his former student had no self-control. "Can't you still feel it?"

That's not what he meant and Obi-Wan knew it! He was just trying to corner Anakin into a trap, like he always did, so he could get his way! Anakin breathed sharply and didn't reply, not trusting himself to say the right thing when Obi-Wan was doing it _again_.

"You're right to try to work this energy off, it's one way to deal with it. But it doesn't seem to be helping tonight and I can sense from here that you're exhausted, so perhaps we should--"

"What do you even know about exhausted, Master?" Anakin bit out, like the last thin wire that had held the words back finally snapped and now they were whipping out of him at an impossible speed. "You sleep just fine! You're only here because I _disturbed_ you, you don't know what it's-- what's like to have-- in your head--"

No! None of this was coming out right! Anakin's breath was ragged and he felt dizzy from too much air, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't get enough, like his lungs were on fire and his eyes were burning and his bones were cold, he could never be warm again, not without something more, not without--

Obi-Wan's hand on his arm was light and Anakin could barely feel it through his tunic, not even when it curled around under his elbow and Obi-Wan squeezed. The storm inside him was too loud, it was like he couldn't grab onto a single thought, only feelings, only rage and longing and _want_ , an impossible to satisfy hunger for something that he couldn't even say what it was, only that it was vital, it was the thing he needed to live, he was dying without it, he was dying right here in the middle of the training room and Obi-Wan was just standing there, face pinched and grim, like he was worried Anakin was going to hurt someone else, lash out with his thoughts and give them a headache for once, instead of worrying about how Anakin was dying and his soul was being clawed apart right in front of him.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan's voice was a crack of thunder, louder even than the ones that echoed in Anakin's ears. "Focus!"

The only reason he could even hear Obi-Wan's voice was that it was _that_ tone, the one that would not be ignored, would not be disobeyed, no matter that Anakin wasn't his student anymore, Obi-Wan would always be his Master, especially in that tone, the one that cut across every storm had ever had, no matter how loud.

" _Padawan_ ," Obi-Wan snapped, his hand suddenly tight on Anakin's elbow. A sharp thrill of something shot through Anakin, a lightning bolt that seemed so clear against all the other blinding ones, this one illuminated and lit him up, rather than burned.

That voice. He knew that voice. He could--

"Master, I--" His throat was dry and he couldn't croak out the words, they stuck somewhere in his chest, as his body shook. From exhaustion, from something else, maybe both, maybe more, he didn't know. He didn't know anything, except how wrong everything was, everything in the entire galaxy was wrong, wrong wrong--

"Look at me, Anakin." Obi-Wan waited for him to drag his eyes back from the middle distance, his Master's gaze refusing to be looked away from again. Anakin could feel a lance of calm and focus trying to pierce the howling in his mind and didn't know whether to push it away or hold onto it.

How could Obi-Wan act like anything was all right? This galaxy was rotten to the core and nobody seemed to want to do anything about it, when they could just tear it all down! Rip apart everyone who'd ever hurt someone else, who'd put chains on another sentient being, who had cut into someone just for the joy of doing it! They could bring burning, searing justice to the scum of the galaxy and yet they did nothing! They just--

The blue of Obi-Wan's eyes refused to be ignored, the press of Obi-Wan's mind on his became more insistent. "Get ahold of yourself, before you get hurt," Obi-Wan snapped, shoving a sense of concern and worry into Anakin's head.

As if there weren't bigger things to worry about, not when--

"Right now," Obi-Wan interrupted, of course he'd plucked that thought right out of Anakin's mind, so easily when they were close like this, when Anakin wanted him to-- to-- " _Right now_ , you are my concern! You're going to hurt yourself like this and this is certainly not the place."

Flashing anger sizzled along his nerves again and his mind ached from how out of focus everything felt. "And where is the place for this, Master? Where is the appropriate place to address how fucked everything is, how I'm the only one who's trying to do anything about _anything!_ Where!?"

Obi-Wan yanked his arm around, hauling Anakin towards the exit. "Not where young Padawans and Initiates might be bombarded with it. Follow me."

At least Obi-Wan was finally angry with him in return, it was better than the cold distance they usually kept between them. Maybe that's what Anakin needed to finally burn this feeling out of his system, a fight with someone real, even if it wasn't what-- what he wanted more than this.

"It's the middle of the night! There's no one else around!" Anakin quickly shoved aside the brief curl of guilt that he knew Obi-Wan was right. But he needed this argument more, needed Obi-Wan to really fight him and of course Obi-Wan would always worry for everyone they came across, whether they were actually there or not.

"There was a young Mornker Padawan who backed away from the training hall as I came here," Obi-Wan said, turning to give him a sharp look as he very nearly frog-marched Anakin somewhere. Away from the people who were important enough to really matter to Obi-Wan.

"Well, they shouldn't have been here in the middle of the night! Who was watching over them anyway, they're supposed to be in bed and--"

"Her species is nocturnal, if you'll recall. She was right where she was supposed to be."

Goddammit, did he have to have an answer for everything!? Perfect Obi-Wan with his perfect answers. Anakin shoved more guilt aside, it didn't matter, he still had as much of a right to the training arena as anyone!

"Where are we even going?" he muttered, half-heartedly trying to yank his arm from Obi-Wan's grip. No matter how he tried to grab hold of that urge to fight again, his Master's flat, disappointed look at sucked the fire from him. He had a right to be angry! He felt more than other Jedi, his emotions were different from theirs, and they refused to understand that, of course he should be angry!

But suddenly it felt like trying to grab black, inky smoke and cram it back into being a fire. All that was left was a raw, burned out feeling and the last traces of warmth against the cold were fleeing like heat being leeched from a corpse. He had to shove away the image of a frightened young Padawan running from the assault on her mind that she wasn't old enough to handle. Guilt gnawed on the edges of his soul and he had to shove even harder.

"My quarters are closer."

Obi-Wan's cold, impersonal quarters, that had none of the life that he knew his Master possessed. His own were crammed full of things, things that he could see and touch and pick up, that were proof positive he was alive, that he'd done things, that he'd been places. Obi-Wan didn't have any of those things, he said he carried it with him, in his heart and in his mind, but no matter how Anakin tried, that only ever seemed empty to him. Pointless. How easy it was to forget if you couldn't touch the thing that connected you to the memory.

Maybe there was a flare of something at that thought, but he still couldn't grab onto it for more than a moment. Anakin didn't know if it was better or worse than the towering fury of before, to feel too much or nothing at all.

Obi-Wan flickered a concerned glance at him, sensing the change of mood, his mind pressing against Anakin's again, gentler this time, asking for entry. Anakin didn't respond. Let Obi-Wan make the decision whether to press or not.

He was just so--

Anakin didn't have the words. He wished he could just sleep, that would solve things. But, despite the fog in his mind, the ache in his limbs, the weariness that seemed like it was part of his very core now, something wouldn't let him. He would only stare at the ceiling, thinking of everything wrong, trying to set the thoughts aside and they'd just burrow right back in.

"Master, I'm--" _So tired. Not sure what do do. Want you to fix everything, like you did when I was younger. Want you to love me the way I love you._

Obi-Wan stared at him, stopped in the middle of the hallway of the Jedi Temple, empty and darkened gold at this time of night. "I know, Anakin." His words were soft and he meant them, but he couldn't, not really. He wasn't like Anakin, he had everything set straight in his head, he knew what he wanted, he didn't hate the galaxy, didn't hate himself.

"I'm--" Anakin shifted his weight on his feet a few times, swallowed hard, couldn't look directly at Obi-Wan, only from the side of his vision. His Master's hand was warm on his back now and Anakin wanted it to slide down, wrap around him and pull him close.

But Obi-Wan wouldn't. He always waited for Anakin first. Anakin hated that.

He rubbed his eyes, feeling sand in his eyes and spots danced across the back of his lids when he pressed too hard. "I'm sorry."

For being so angry all the time, for being such a pain to handle, for not being able to get over this, for losing his temper. For not being better. For everything.

He shuffled closer, hoping Obi-Wan wouldn't push him away, not today, because he knew someday his Master would have to. But Obi-Wan just let him curl in close, pressing his face against the soft tabards on his Master's shoulder, and hid away from the galaxy just for a few seconds.

The touch on his back was still there, firm and grounding. Not enough. But at least a lifeline. Anakin tried to block everything else out, everything but the smell of Obi-Wan's clothes, that scent of Temple laundry and the beard oil that always meant his Master was near, close enough to let him touch.

It helped. The cold retreated an inch, maybe two.

With a deep sigh, Obi-Wan curled his arm around Anakin and let him press in even closer. It stung less because of the way Obi-Wan turned to tuck Anakin's face against his neck, and a wave of warm concern-care-affection washed over Anakin's aching mind.

"What am I going to do with you?" Obi-Wan asked, only because it was an age-worn question between them, like a familiar pair of silma-cotton socks that had been softened into something that felt like Duro silk. Anakin only had to think that he desperately wanted Obi-Wan's hand in his hair for it to happen, fingers woven between his admittedly damp and unwashed curls, which were always worse when he'd worked up a sweat. He probably smelled terrible, too.

"You do," Obi-Wan said softly, but it was kind and he could hear the smile in it. "But I'm long since used to that."

"Sorry," Anakin muttered, surprised that he could choke it out around all the things stuck in his chest.

Obi-Wan's fingers scratched one final time at his scalp, then the warmth of him was lesser, pulled back so he could urge them out of the middle of the hallway in the dead of night. Anakin would have followed him anywhere just for another taste of that warmth, desperate for anything to make sense of himself. "Come on, we're almost there, no sense making a scene any further."

Anakin didn't bother to look around pointedly, to make a show of how no one was anywhere near them, no one would see. Obi-Wan already knew that, too. The old joke seemed hollow now, pointless against what used to be fun just for the sake of teasing his Master.

Obi-Wan's quarters at least were better than he'd expected. He could feel the presence of his Master's calm soaked into the very walls. It wasn't as loud as his own room, he knew his anger poured itself into the very furniture and air of the room. Quinlan Vos had once come to give him a message from the Council, taken one step into Anakin's rooms, his arm braced on the wall for dramatic effect, then made a face like he'd just seen Anakin take a shit in the corner and leave it there, before refusing to ever come back. Well, Anakin assumed he refused to come back, that'd only been a few months ago. But probably.

Obi-Wan's quarters were much nicer, there was the smell of that shampoo he used, boring but so familiar, comforting in the steadiness of it, Anakin always knew it was him.

He settled heavily on the bed, let his fingers clench into the sheets, seeking another hint of his Master, maybe he might have been in this bed, half-asleep, lazingly thinking about Anakin, just like Anakin so often thought of him, when he--

Obi-Wan's fingers slid back into his hair and tilted Anakin's face up, where he stood halfway between Anakin's knees. "You let this go too far," he said, tightening his grip when Anakin tried to look away.

"I thought I could handle it," Anakin mumbled, embarrassment and frustration trying to start a fight within him. "I was _trying_ to handle it."

"I know." Anakin couldn't tell the tone of that--was Obi-Wan disappointed with him? Annoyed? Pleased? Though the press of him was still there in Anakin's mind, he couldn't read what Obi-Wan meant by that. "You still should have sought help earlier when it wasn't working. You had no idea how much you were leaking into the Force around you. I taught you better than this."

Was this a lecture? Or something else? Obi-Wan refused to budge from where he stood, but he could have crowded Anakin backwards, could have laid him out on the bed, stepped forward to splay his legs open wider, made his point that way. Or he could have stepped back, could have pulled up a meditation cushion to be the strict, formal teacher.

But he did neither and Anakin was so tired of being confused. Of just not knowing anything.

"Sorry for not being perfect about not being perfect," he muttered, his sullenness finding at least one last hurrah again.

A flash of Obi-Wan turning him over and smacking a series of hits across his backside ran across Anakin's thoughts, gone as soon as he felt it, and, oh, Obi-Wan had _definitely_ not meant for him to pick up on that urge.

 _This_ at least, Anakin knew what to do with.

"Not all of us can be--"

"Perfect, yes, so you've said," Obi-Wan interrupted, impatience sparking in his eyes and Anakin grabbed onto it with both hands. "I won't repeat myself again on that faulty logic, yet I cannot leave this situation as it is."

Anakin leaned back, letting his legs fall apart another inch or so, arousal zinging through his wired thoughts. He let it pour over inside himself, let it spill onto Obi-Wan's thoughts, how much he was ready for this. Maybe adding in a little bit of a fight, too. That usually calmed him down and Obi-Wan knew it. "Are you going to _spank me_ , Master? Make me learn my lesson?"

This time it was his own image that he shoved at Obi-Wan. Settled across his Master's lap, wriggling impatiently, maybe trying to break free, maybe not, one hand twisted up behind his back for leverage so he couldn't move. His pants around his ankles, tangling up his legs so he couldn't kick free, head bowed to hide the heated flush on his face that matched the reddening of his backside, as Obi-Wan's hand landed on his ass again. _I'm sorry, Master!_ cried the image. _I won't do it again! Please, Master! I'm sorry!_

Vision Anakin writhed on Obi-Wan's lap, his erection poking into his Master's leg, leaving a damp spot every time it made contact.

It was exactly what would get under Obi-Wan's skin--he could pretend all he liked that he didn't enjoy putting Anakin in his place and maybe he was mostly right, but there was part of him that very much liked the idea of Anakin getting something out of it. He liked it when Anakin liked him shutting his apprentice up with a heavy, firm hand.

Obi-Wan would never roll his eyes at Anakin, not in a moment like this, he would never give Anakin that victory, but Anakin could feel how much he wanted to. He could almost hear Obi-Wan saying, *Well, I'm not going to spank you _now_.*

Anakin considered it a victory, even if he wouldn't have minded doing exactly that.

It wouldn't have been the first time and, while it had been embarrassing sometimes, the release of it, the forgiveness he gained from it, that no matter what he fucked up, as long as Obi-Wan would take him in hand for it, it could be forgiven.

But the sharp cut of Anakin's grin cut that possibility off.

"No," Obi-Wan finally said. "I think that path is too fraught for us tonight."

For _him_ Obi-Wan meant and something mean and with teeth lanced through Anakin again. He knew his glare hardened too much when Obi-Wan looked at him with his own sharp glare, like he'd won some sort of point in their duel.

"You need something else, I think." Obi-Wan said, eyeing him up and down once. He peered into Anakin's very soul, which Anakin met him with a last roil of thunder and lightning, the roar of a dragon just over the next ridge, a crashing ocean against a cliffside, everything thrown at his Master at once.

That seemed to settle it for Obi-Wan, who nodded once sharply and gestured a hand at him, flipping it over once to indicate what he wanted. "On the bed, hands and knees, facing away." Sharp and curt, like he just expected to be obeyed.

Anakin may not have been at the top of his game, but he wasn't _that_ bad, not yet. "Are you going to make me, Master?" His grin felt foreign on his face, pushed too hard and far at the edges. Oh, Anakin wanted this, wanted his Master to grab a handful of hair and shove him face down on the bed, wanted him to shove his legs apart and fuck him until he could barely breathe, much less think about all the stupid shit in the galaxy. "Are you going to--"

Obi-Wan was a Jedi Master, Anakin knew that. Knew every trick that Obi-Wan had ever taught him, was stronger in the Force than Obi-Wan, knew his Master's intentions better than anyone else in the entire Order or out of it.

Yet somehow, there was nothing to warn him of when Obi-Wan moved, to even tell what had happened. Only one moment he was standing at the edge of the bed, Anakin taunting him with a lazy pose and a mean, ready-to-fight grin, and the next he'd been swooped over, halfway up the bed, face ground into the sheets that smelled of his Master, and a heavy arm on the back of his shoulders. Obi-Wan's weight settled atop him, his one knee digging into the inside of Anakin's thigh.

"Padawans who behave poorly will be treated as the ill-mannered brats they are," Obi-Wan said hotly in his ear. "We both know that I am trying to help you, so you will cease fighting me and _let me_ do some good with you."

Distantly, Anakin knew he could shake Obi-Wan off him. Could even just say that he didn't want this, could send half a thought to his Master's mind, and Obi-Wan would be off him in a moment. There was a constant press on the back of his mind, like Obi-Wan had one hand in his very soul, to check on him, to monitor him. Anakin shivered and couldn't say anything, all the words knotted together in his chest again and he buried his face in the sheets.

All he could do was desperately reach out for _something_ from Obi-Wan, let him see underneath the storm for a moment, even if the words would never come out of his mouth.

Obi-Wan's touch in his thoughts was gentle, just for a moment. He'd seen, he knew. Then his grip shifted to Anakin's hair again, grinding his face down into the mattress, his Master's scent everywhere now. "Good boy. Behave and this will go much better."

That touch let up for a moment as Obi-Wan pulled off him, and Anakin wanted to scream, wanted to reach out with the Force and yank him back, wanted to break something until he was satisfied, but then Obi-Wan's hands were on his back, undoing the obi around his waist, half with his own fingers, half with the Force. It was gone a moment later. Then his tunic and tabards were halfway up his back, not even pulled off him, just shoved out of the way. His pants were jerked down, awkward and strangely satisfying for how difficult it was. Maybe Obi-Wan did that on purpose, too.

The air against his ass was cold, but not as bad as the cold from before. Not once Obi-Wan's hands were on him, rough and calloused and spreading warmth through him. They spread his cheeks open, Anakin shivering as much from the exposure as from the air that touched previously covered skin.

"Hmm," Obi-Wan said thoughtfully and Anakin wasn't sure, but he might have sensed a swirl of indecision in that pause. It startled him until he dug his own mental fingers into the thoughts and Obi-Wan let him see--not doubting what they were about to do, but trying to decide if he wanted to open Anakin up with fingers and tongue first, loosen him up and take his time, making his former Padawan squirm until he begged for more, or if he wanted to push in hard and fast, shove everything else out of his terribly wound up Padawan.

Anakin shifted impatiently, he didn't want gentle or slow or kind. Love-making was sacred, but that didn't mean it always had to be _nice_ , and Obi-Wan should know that.

"Master," he croaked, shoving every bit of frustration and whatever else it was underneath that at him. "Come _on_ already."

Obi-Wan held on for another long moment, just to torture him, fingers still pressing into the globes of Anakin's ass to leave him open while his Master took his fucking time. But eventually he made his decision, something hard and determined against the borders of Anakin's mind. Anakin shivered again, one arm pulled up to cover his face, because he couldn't bear to expose that, too.

A gentle whorl in the Force and Anakin didn't have to look to know there was a bottle of lube in his Master's hand, the quiet click of the cap opening not a surprise in the quiet of the room. His Master shifted behind him, knees digging further into Anakin's thighs to get him to spread them open more, so he tried to clamp them together just to be contrary.

Fuck _nice_ , the galaxy wasn't nice or easy or compliant.

Anakin wouldn't be either.

"My dear Padawan. So angry at the galaxy," Obi-Wan murmured and Anakin could feel the ghost sensation of a wet lube-slicked hand on his cock, could almost see an image of himself splayed out on the bed, now only a hint of his Master's ultimate target visible. "But you have reason enough for it, I suppose. Controlling yourself does not mean you're not allowed feelings, they're normal."

Anakin didn't care. Fuck Jedi philosophy or lessons, he wanted to just scour it all out of him and give him five minutes worth of peace already.

Obi-Wan's fingers swiped across the cleft of him, a fresh coat of lube was enough to wet Anakin's entrance and that was all he would get tonight. The thought of it alone was enough to quicken Anakin's breath again, that it would burn more than usual, that it would punch the air right out of his lungs if he was lucky.

And yet he couldn't help throwing a snarl of _something_ at Obi-Wan, not even sure what he meant by it. _Hurry the fuck up? Fuck you for putting me in this position? I wanted more than this and you're not giving me enough?_ He didn't know that, either.

"Patience, Padawan," Obi-Wan said, placid and calm even now. Anakin yanked angrily on his signature in the Force, prepared to rip something right out of Obi-Wan's head if he had to, the exhaustion in his mind eroding what little patience he had left. But Obi-Wan just forced his mental fingers back down, gave him the hard roll of want-desire-concern that soothed Anakin's nerves, and then the blunt head of his cock was pressing against Anakin's hole with only a moment to object or prepare himself.

Anakin did neither, just let the thunderhead crackle ominously inside him, let it wash over onto Obi-Wan, too.

Then one warm hand was against one hip, a sticky hand against his other, curling around them and yanking him backwards and up, so that his ass was put on display as his Master's thick cock pushed in.

It wasn't as fast as Anakin had thought it would be, he'd imagined he'd be speared open in one swift shove. But neither was it slow, his Master's cock was big even without being flushed into hardness and it had been long enough since they'd been together like this that Anakin wasn't quite used to it. For a moment, he wished he'd fought for Obi-Wan's fingers and tongue to loosen him up, so intense was the stretch of that big girth. But then, another moment and more of that length in him, he couldn't really think at all, shuddering at the feel of it all.

At least he could push back against it, could do something with the desperate urge to move, though Obi-Wan's grip on his hips only allowed for so much. Anakin shoved himself back as much as he could, stopped from going too hard or too fast, and he'd die before admitting it, but Obi-Wan was right to hold him steady, the length halfway inside him was already making it nearly impossible to so much as breathe through it.

The grip Obi-Wan had on his hips turned painful, fingertips digging into the skin there to hold him in place, his Master's own desire to shove into that tight heat making him want to claw something part. _Do it!_ Anakin hurled at him. _Fuck me already!_

If his Master could ever have said to snarl through the Force, Anakin was sure that he would be doing so now. Yet Obi-Wan forced himself to stop partway in, let Anakin adjust to the intrusion, and made a point to glance down to where their bodies were joined, looking at the stretched wide rim around his slicked up cock, shoving the image over with surprisingly little elegance.

Anakin could see himself clear as day, ass up and his face buried in the sheets, could feel Obi-Wan knowing exactly what he was hiding. He held the position for long enough that Anakin began to squirm, unsure if he wanted to push back further, knowing he was just displaying himself all the more to Obi-Wan's gaze, that the dark rosy prize stretched around his Master's cock would only be more central to the vision, or if he wanted to rip the image apart and let Obi-Wan win.

He refused to give in, but somehow Obi-Wan took it as a victory anyway. Anakin refused to go back or forward, just held as still as he could, only the faint tremors he could feel through Obi-Wan's hands giving him away. And that was just because Obi-Wan wasn't really in him all the way yet, Anakin decided.

"Good boy," Obi-Wan said again, softly and kindly, so at odds with the way he held Anakin so tightly. "That's much better."

As a distraction--or reward, Anakin suddenly didn't really care--Obi-Wan pulled him back the last bit until he was fully seated inside, the sheer size of him stealing the wind from Anakin's chest and taking all the noise in his head with it. That last bit was always the best, that Anakin could take most of his Master and still keep fighting, but that thick cock settled all the way in a person? _Nothing_ could withstand that onslaught, Anakin knew.

For once, Obi-Wan didn't treat him kindly, didn't give him time to adjust. He let his own desire roll over Anakin, the urge to pull out of that tight space and then drive right back in, hard enough to make Anakin groan with it. Which he did and then Anakin did as well, Obi-Wan pulling back and slamming in again, hard and fast, so that Anakin groaned out everything that had ever been inside him, every thought, feeling, and breath.

The only thing left was the hard push and pull of his Master inside him, relentless from the moment he began to move, and that was the entire galaxy now. It was a galaxy that made sense to Anakin, was a _good_ galaxy, one that was right and just and secure. He'd stay here forever, if he could. Would let Obi-Wan see and have everything of him, if he'd just stay in Anakin like this, would keep all the bad from seeping back in. Would love Anakin like this, the way he wanted.

If Obi-Wan picked up on those thoughts, Anakin couldn't tell, they were both so consumed by the push and pull of their joining. Every drive in, every pull back, was met with a flush of renewed faith in something decent in this rotten galaxy, each time Obi-Wan slid back in, his hips crashing into Anakin's backside with the force of it, there was a little more good in the galaxy that Anakin could see. A little less bad.

"Touch yourself," Obi-Wan gasped, his fingers clawing against Anakin's hips in the chasing of both their pleasure. He was breathless and Anakin didn't have to look to see his hair was in that slight disarray it got when they were together--he missed seeing his Master like that, but he wasn't going to turn over to see it, there was still too much that he couldn't hold back. Couldn't let Obi-Wan see, couldn't--

Obi-Wan shoved in harder, twice, three times more, and Anakin's thoughts scattered like feral tookas when a garbage bin crashed over into their midst.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, harder this time. Anakin had to obey, even if he didn't know how he possibly could. His fist was loose around his own cock, barely jerking over the length of it every time Obi-Wan fucked into him again. He caught half a glimpse of the way he looked to Obi-Wan, his leaking cock barely able to be seen between his legs, fingers barely curled around it.

All he could do was send over a wave of how it was too much, he could barely touch himself without wanting to cry from the intensity of it. He was so hard that it nearly hurt, the precome leaking from the head almost as much as the lube that had coated Obi-Wan's fingers earlier.

Obi-Wan let him drop his hands away, content with the way Anakin's own cock returned to smacking against his belly every time he was fucked into, the brief jolt of it nearly enough to send Anakin over the edge.

"Maybe I should instead--" Obi-Wan tried to say, but Anakin desperately shook his head. The angle wasn't right, he was so close, he didn't need to be touched, anyway, Obi-Wan sometimes made him come untcouched like this, why change now, no, no, he needed it like this, needed Obi-Wan to put _everything_ into fucking him and he cried out angrily when Obi-Wan tried to move to touch him. He shoved back, hard as he could, not caring that it jarred Obi-Wan into an odd angle and his pace faltered, but at least he got the fucking hint.

 _All right, Padwan,_ Obi-Wan's voice was steadier in his head than aloud, but that was just the sheer breathlessness of the activity. His Master knew what he was doing and Anakin held onto that, that someone who cared about him and would help him knew what they were doing. It made sense, of course Obi-Wan knew what he was doing. And Obi-Wan listened to him finally, gave him what he needed.

Not as much as he wanted, but enough that at least the galaxy could be managed again. As long as Obi-Wan was with him, as long as Obi-Wan would _see_ him, would _help_ him, then it was all right, it was--

Obi-Wan hitched him up again and a fresh wave of determination rolled over Anakin, determination to hold out until he came first. Tears threatened to well up in his eyes at his Master's regard for him, as well as the heavy weight behind him that refused to budge. Obi-Wan always refused to be budged when it really mattered, he would always--

Then there was a minute shift in angle, the shaft just as thick inside him as always, stealing away the air he'd managed to drag back into his lungs, but now the head of Obi-Wan's cock grazed right over Anakin's prostate and stars exploded behind his shut eyes. Fire zipped along every nerve ending he had and he couldn't help crying out into the sheets, Obi-Wan wasn't moving from that spot, instead he rubbed back and forth over it relentlessly, sending magma through Anakin's very veins.

He held on as long as he could, held onto a galaxy that made sense for as long as he could, but Obi-Wan inside him was merciless, now that he'd found the right angle. He shoved in hard, right over that same spot, three times in hard succession and Anakin was lost. He spilled onto the sheets in what felt like a burst of white light, pouring the mess of himself everywhere and limbs snapping into rigor from the sheer strength of it.

Obi-Wan fucked him through his orgasm, slowing to something less frantic, until he too finally groaned and spilled inside, pulled along in the wake of Anakin's explosion.

For a long, breathless minute, Obi-Wan stayed in him, Anakin uncaring that he'd collapsed into his own mess on the bed. 

They panted together, Obi-Wan against the back of his shoulder where he'd landed on Anakin, only one hand keeping his full weight off his apprentice, and Anakin into the crook of his arm where his now-wet face was buried. The aches and pains asserted themselves slowly, starting with how full he still was and the dull ache of being taken so hard and fast, that he was definitely going to feel that tomorrow. But it was the ache of something finally put back into a sane order, of something terrible and vicious chased out of him and he could finally, finally feel a blessed drowsiness fogging over him.

Anakin barely grunted as Obi-Wan finally pulled out, only twitching a little as Obi-Wan ran a thumb down the seam of his ass to consider the mess of him, ready to drift off now. He managed to hold on long enough for the faint whorl of the Force that meant Obi-Wan had summoned something to clean him up, he could feel the swipe of something across his backside, carefully across his now sensitive and probably swollen hole, then Obi-Wan carefully pulling the last of his clothing off, Anakin's limbs pliant and loose as he tugged this way and that. But anything beyond that was lost.

All except for the soft caress through the Force and Obi-Wan's gentle murmur, "Sleep well, Padawan." and the warmth of a galaxy finally set to rights again.


End file.
